Chapter Text
Is it a wonder I broke?
Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream
Everything was calm. The sun was out, shining brightly over the Commonwealth. Laughs were echoing all around them, children and adults alike enjoying the peace. RJ and Judith work as a team to throw water on the other teens, before quickly taking off in the other direction to escape retaliation. Or they were a team… until Judith turned the tables and soaked RJ. Rick laughed as he watched, sitting at a table with Michonne in his lap, while Daryl and Carol rested across from them.
It was perfect. Peaceful.
Carol should’ve known it was too good to last.
“He says he’s a messenger from the Bricks,” Mercer informs swiftly, leading the group towards the man in question. “And he needs to speak with Carol and Daryl. He’s pretty young. I’ve never seen him before, but he has willingly gone along with everything we’ve asked. Although he does seem scared shitless.”
“Of us?” Rick asks, trying to get a better read on the situation.
“No,” Mercer denies. “He handed his gun over without hesitation. And truthfully, he’s not the one I’m worried about. He’s just a messenger. But Elijah is with him… and although I don't know him very well, I’ve never seen him this stricken. He’s asked to speak with you urgently, but besides a few short sentences, has barely spoken since.”
Carol and Daryl share an uneasy glance. There’s a pit forming in her belly, worsening with every step they take. Is someone dead? Maggie? Lydia? Hershel? Are the Bricks in trouble? She does not like to think of the worse possible outcomes, but it helps sometimes, to prepare herself. That way she’s not blindsided by the unwanted emotions.
It doesn’t take them long to round the last corner, immediately noticing an unfamiliar voice within the crowd forming near the gate. Carol quickly notices, that though his young companion agreed to hand over his weapon, Elijah did not. He is tense, his hand hovering anxiously in the air, while his fingers twitch for the familiar presence of his kamas. There is a dark, unsettling haze burning within his dark orbs.
Elijah’s gaze immediately collides with Carol’s. And for a second, his resolve crumbles. There is a sudden, sharp intake of breath, mixed with unwanted tears and trembling lips. But right before Carol has the chance to speak up, to ask him to confirm the suspicions she fears to be true, his younger companion – who was too busy fidgeting before Ezekiel to notice the group approach – begins another spew of frantic words.
Mercer was right. He’s nervous, scared shitless. Young. Close to Hershel’s age if Carol would’ve had to guess. And that thought drives the pit deeper in her stomach. This isn’t nerves. His jaw is clenched to stop his chin from trembling, his breathing is erratic, and his hands are concealed in his jacket to hide them from shaking. But that doesn’t stop the nervous babble from slipping past his lips.
“They should be here by now, shouldn’t they?” He asks openly, spearing Ezekiel a sharp glance in the heat of the moment. “We’ve been here twenty minutes! I knew we should’ve stayed at the Bricks! We could’ve been of help there, but instead, we're wasting our time! I mean, why are we even listening to what Negan says? It’s not like he could possibly know what she nee—!”
“Negan?” Rick asks sharply.
The teen jumps at the unexpected sound, his attention shifting towards the arriving group, while his dark green orbs widen at the sight of Rick and Michonne’s obvious tension from hearing that name. Carol and Daryl don’t flinch, hurrying forward, while sharing a concerned glance. Negan’s not the type of person to ask them – of all people – for help unless he had no other choice.
Well… unless Maggie is involved…
But that would mean…
“What happened?” Carol asks thickly.
Her gaze is even with Elijah’s, blue orbs staring into his haunted knowing eyes. She ignores the sudden weight of everybody’s attention, quietly feeling comfort in Daryl’s presence at her back, while her feet shift forward in sudden desperation. She needs him to say it. Elijah wouldn’t be in this position – struggling and withholding tears – over just anybody. He wouldn’t be here, asking for them, over just anybody.
Negan wouldn’t have sent for them over just anybody.
It’s Maggie. She knows it. He just needs to say it.
Tension is thick in the air, spreading rapidly. The young teen opens his mouth to answer, words lingering on his tongue when his throat closes and face pales upon the stark realization he’s not prepared for the heaviness of his intended words. It’s raw. The wound in need of mending, while it’s stinging and bleeding.
Elijah swallows, forcing himself to speak. Forces the words through his tight pinched lips, trying - and failing - to ready himself for the sharp sting of questions he’s sure they’ll send his way.
“It’s Maggie,” Elijah admits weakly, “You’re gonna want to come.”
XX
No one hesitated in coming along. Rick and Michonne left RJ and Judith at the Commonwealth to be safe, but they were the second ones to be packed and waiting in the car after Daryl. Carol – because she had to talk with Ezekiel and Mercer about their plan – was a few minutes behind them. The plan is relatively simple.
Go to the Bricks. Get Maggie.
…and possibly Negan…
Then return to the Commonwealth.
But does anything ever go according to plan? It takes a total of thirty-six hours and twenty-two minutes to get to the Bricks. Carol only knows because she watched the time shed into nothing on a working watch she found a couple of days before. They’re in a hurry. Their fear grows, as Elijah grows more restless as the hours inch on. They only make the necessary stops – which is gas, luckily Elijah had thought ahead to bring extra, and bathroom breaks – and spare food was packed before they left.
It was once they had an hour left of the drive that Daryl found the courage to ask what they were walking into. He’s not going to risk them being unprepared. Not when it could be Maggie’s life on the line. Not when Negan was the one sending for them. The only problem…Elijah doesn’t know the full story. He knows the tale of the Croat, a bastard, who offered Maggie a bargain. That she was to give him Negan in exchange for Hershel. Elijah doesn’t know how she found him, or any of the methods used, just that she kept her end. Once it was done, she brought Hershel back to the Bricks.
He mentions the tension between her and her son. The way she was obviously struggling with what happened, but refused to talk about it. How she spent weeks walking on eggshells around Hershel before they had a huge fight… and how that night, she left to find Negan.
Said what she did wasn't right. That she had to fix it.
“Hershel said some pretty awful things to his mom that night,” Marcus, the younger companion, comments. His gaze is focused out the window on the trees passing by in a blur, and not on the people staring a hole right through him. “And well he waited… waited a couple of months for her to come back, but she never did. So he left to find her…”
Elijah sighs, watching the teen closely. They are pulling up to the front gates of the Bricks, and he notices Lydia ordering them to be opened from her position on the watchtower. If he were to guess, she was most likely watching for their arrival.
“It was only a month after he left that Negan pulled up in a trashy truck,” Elijah chuckles bitterly, pulling the car to a stop. “He was covered in blood and dirt. Our men guarding the post almost shot him. He just stood there, hands raised in surrender, before demanding to see Lydia and a doctor. It wasn’t until she vouched for him that they put their guns down and opened the gate… only then did he get Maggie out of the truck.”
Elijah braces his hand on the door handle, as tears are burning through his dark orbs. His thoughts are flowing with unwanted images of Maggie’s broken and bruised body. Negan looked like a mess, but Maggie… Well, he can only describe it one way.
“I thought she was dead.”
Carol flinches at the sound weight of those words. Rick and Michonne share one haunted glance, while Daryl’s swallowing against the rush of emotion. The silence to follow is thick and overwhelming. Though it doesn’t last long.
Marcus shakes his head, reaching for the handle of his door. His parting words are ones they don’t forget for a very long time. “Yeah,” he agrees angrily. Carol doesn’t know if it’s because of the situation or not. “And I would bet that she wishes she was.”
“Marcus…” Elijah swallows thickly, his voice trailing off, watching the teen run off. “I’m sorry for that. Mark… he was one of Hershel’s closest friends.”
“And Hershel? He…?” Carol forces herself to ask.
“Negan hasn’t said much about what happened,” Elijah closes his eyes in defeat. “We know the basics. Just that it was bad. Hershel… Negan said it was quick. Someone called Dama ordered it. He said… said that it happened in front… front of Maggie.”
Carol closes her eyes, the words settling in, and similar reactions are made by the people near her. She feels a familiar grasp squeezing her shoulder in comfort, and it is a natural response by now for her to lean into Daryl’s embrace.
They need to get to Maggie. Now.
Lydia meets the group outside the car, a little awkward and tense with Michonne and Rick, but is quick to greet Daryl and Carol with a tight hug and red-stained orbs. There’s a weak smile at the corner of her lips that doesn’t last a minute. Elijah sends her a meaningful glance – a question in his dark orbs none of the new arrivals understand – but whatever it means, Lydia quickly shakes her head.
The young woman leads the group towards one of the older buildings. It’s not very big. Small, one level, and it only seems to have a couple of rooms. Upon entrance, it’s very quiet. No one running about trying to find things. Everything is in perfect order. There is a set of chairs in front of the window and another set by the door, while Medical books are aligned on the side wall. It’s not a lot, and they look old and worn, but at least it’s something.
“This is our medical cabin. It’s not much, but our doctor is good. He’s been taking care of Negan and Maggie, I think he may even let her leave tonight if we push him.” Lydia pauses, leading the group around a dark corner. “But before we go in there with them, you need to know that it’s not a pretty sight.”
Lydia takes a moment to observe each and every one of them. It’s only when her gaze reaches Daryl that cracks begin to form in her tough facade. She threads her bottom lip in her teeth, and forces air through her lungs.
“Negan is covered in cuts and bruises. His knee is swollen, sprained most likely, but that should be better in a few days as long as he doesn’t push it. Now mentally… he’s jumpy. I do not know how to explain, but it’s not like he’s scared… Always watching. Ready to act. Paranoid. He’s not going to let anyone in the room he doesn’t trust or Maggie doesn’t okay. As of now, that has only been the doctor and me.”
Rick and Michonne share an uneasy glance. The group comes to a sudden stop, Lydia pausing to face them. She ignores the tense air, aware of some of the couple’s history with the man, and moves the conversation onto the elephant in the room.
“Maggie is a different story,” Lydia begins carefully, her words measured and controlled. “She’s been asleep – mostly – since she got here. And I…I’ve seen a lot of things. Enough to know that this wasn’t revenge. This was just a sick twisted way to break someone.”
Carol swallows thickly, her throat tightening, while sharing a solemn glance with Daryl. He tries – and fails – to ignore the sickening pit in his gut, studying Lydia’s face. She’s trying to hold herself together, her words flowing in a monotone, but he notices the emotion bubbling within.
“As far as we know, Maggie has a concussion,” Lydia begins, her words measured. “We’ve been monitoring it closely since she got here. She’s got at least four broken ribs, a cough, and there is water in her lungs – which can turn into a case of pneumonia – but we’ve given her antibiotics to be on the safe side and they are doing their job. Now for the most physically alarming issue, she is also extremely malnourished.
“But mentally… Maggie’s just there. She slept all day yesterday. Today we’ve just tried to get her to eat. She won’t let anyone touch her, although Negan can get the closest. And Maggie…she… hasn’t said a word since she got here. Negan says she hasn’t since Hershel died.”
Daryl inhales sharply, the weight of the words settling in his chest. He doesn’t know what he had expected when they first left… but this wasn’t it. Maggie wasn’t supposed to be hurt. She wasn’t supposed to have seen Hershel die. And Hershel… he wasn’t supposed to be dead.
“Come on,” Lydia instructs gently, tilting her head towards the last door on the left. She threads her fingers together anxiously, sparing each member of the group one last glance. “They’re right in the back room.”
Carol swallows thickly, her heart thundering in her chest, while the door creaks open. She was warned of the sight greeting her, but nothing could have truly prepared her. It happened quickly – one moment her feet were just barely crossing the threshold and the next Negan was in front of her with a knife at the ready. In the next couple of months, she would come to realize that the tense stance and weary orbs he greeted her with weren’t fully for himself. Negan had positioned himself between Maggie and the door. But the knife was too startling for her to fully comprehend everything at once.
It’s a fierce five seconds in which Negan holds Carol’s gaze with his knife tilted to strike and her hands raised in surrender. It’s only then can he process the individual in front of him. He quickly lowers the blade, a hoarse chuckle slipping past his lips, shifting all his weight to his left leg.
“Well, shit…” Negan drawls dramatically, “I wasn’t expecting you to get here this fast.”
Carol nods, accepting his answer without complaint. She quickly notices all the cuts trailing over his face and down his forearms, while dark nasty bruises are seen forming their own way across his battered body. “You don’t look too good,” she comments, never one to beat around the bush, especially when it comes to him.
“You think?” Negan retorts sharply. He forces the pained grimace off his face, shifting his weight around on his leg, while jerking his head pointedly behind him. Carol immediately straightens, all of the air trapped in her lungs, as she barely resists the urge to charge forward. The
Maggie
she is greeted with – is the one she was warned about.
Maggie’s own cuts and bruises are trailing across her pale skin. Her body tense, supporting the purple circles around her eyes. She’s staring unseeingly at one of the walls before her, unaware of the group's arrival, and her breaths are carefully measured as to not strain her aching ribs.
Carol inhales weakly, forcing one foot before the other, while her ocean-blue orbs fill to the brim with tears. It’s unnerving — the sight before her. She’s known Maggie for years, all the different expressions ranging from smiling and laughing to cunning and furious. She held and comforted the younger woman while she cried and doubted herself.
But this… she has never seen her like this.
None of them have.
“Maggie?” Carol questions softly, reaching a comforting hand forward. The unexpected touch is enough to startle Maggie out of her haze, causing her body to flinch instinctively. Her green orbs are sharp, snapping alert to hold Carol’s gaze with a dark piercing motion. Neither woman notice Negan hovering forward on the tip of his toes, watching them anxiously. Maggie’s been avoiding anyone touching her unless necessary since she got here.
But as she comes to realize the individual in front of her… her resolve crumbles.
Maggie gasps weakly, her fierce hazel orbs shattering as they’re overwhelmed with tears. There is a sudden vulnerable presence to the woman before her that Carol has never witnessed. She’s tired. In pain. And wants nothing more than for it all to go away. She wants to scream, shout, and welcome the rage swirling within her soul. But she can’t…
The grief is swallowing her whole. And she drifts off into her mind trying to process the events of these last couple of months. The fight with Hershel. Leaving to find Negan. The dark, cold walls of her cell… the fighting pits… It’s all too much. Words are too much. She just needs time… but right now, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. And she’s tired. So tired…
Maggie’s lips tremble, and her body aches with the force of her breaths. She leans into Carol’s open arms, tears crusading down her bruised cheeks, and willingly releases her weak grasp on her facade. The embrace is warm and comforting, enough to distract her from the overwhelming unforeseen circumstances leaving her reeling, wishing nothing more than for Negan to have left her burning within the depths of Manhattan.
At least that wouldn’t have hurt as much.